


The Care and Keeping of Your Kitten

by Celly1995



Series: Kitten Kaner [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Collars, M/M, Relationship Discussions, brief mention of events in August 2009
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 12:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13704315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celly1995/pseuds/Celly1995
Summary: Jonny's actually sort of surprised it takes him as long as it does to get more details out of Patrick about his condition. And he never would have guessed so much of it stems from one little accessory.





	The Care and Keeping of Your Kitten

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot believe it's been over a YEAR since the original fic was posted. This one should not have been that far behind, wtf. I apologize immensely for the delay. As always, many thanks to groolover for the beta.

Jonny's pulling dinner out of the oven and about to grab two plates from the cupboard when he realizes that Patrick's never actually surfaced from the bedroom. It's been at least forty minutes since he'd given a mumbled "mmhm, just a minute" to Jonny's suggestion that he should get up. He gets that practice was somewhat more exhausting than usual today—Q hasn't been at all pleased with their last few games, and what happened with the Flyers yesterday was downright embarrassing, no matter who the fuck you asked—but if Patrick naps any longer, he's going to totally fuck his sleep cycle. Jonny understands the exhaustion, but he can't let Patrick do that to himself. Besides, he really doesn't want to eat dinner alone, nor does he want to have to reheat everything.

He pads toward his room in bare feet, intending to creep over to his bed and wake Patrick up with a nudge that's not quite hard enough to annoy him yet is firm enough that it gets the point across, lest Jonny let himself be dragged back into bed as well. But when Jonny reaches the door—still standing open from Jonny's exit—he sees Patrick's already up. 

Well, he's awake, anyway. Jonny almost calls out from the hall and tells him to get his ass out to the kitchen so they can eat, but he catches the vibe of the room and thinks better of it. This isn't Patrick being lazy, or even groggy. He's sitting on the edge of Jonny's bed, something held in his hands, and he's looking down at it in a way that's contemplative and something kind of like sad. Whatever that look is, exactly, it puts Jonny in check. Instead of barging in, Jonny steps carefully through the doorway and floats a soft, "hey."

Patrick jumps at the sound of Jonny's voice and moves to shove whatever is in his hands underneath the pillow sitting next to him. When he actually looks up at Jonny, his face is guilty and still just a little upset. "Hey. Sorry, I was just getting ready to come out there and—"

"What are you hiding?" Patrick flinches just a little, and Jonny mentally kicks himself. He's working on his tendency to be too blunt when he wants answers he thinks are important, especially because he's learned it usually just makes Patrick defensive. Sometimes, he does all right. Others, not so much. "Sorry. I meant, what's wrong?"

Patrick shakes his head. "Nothing."

Okay, there's being nosy or bossy for its own sake, and then there's actually wanting to know what's wrong so that things can be fixed, and Jonny's operating on the second one and not really feeling Patrick's avoidance of the matter. They've had talks about bottling shit up and the need for communication. It didn't exactly work out for Patrick the last time he tried to ignore everything, and Jonny doesn't want to be a dick and bring that up yet again if he doesn't have to. "No, come on. Seriously. What's up? You were obviously thinking about something before I walked in here. I saw your face."

Patrick looks ready to deny it again for a moment before he sighs deeply. "It's fucking stupid."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, 'you'll give me shit for the rest of forever' stupid. You know how sometimes thoughts are just...."

"...Stupid?" Jonny says when Patrick doesn't finish the sentence. He plops himself down on the mattress next to Patrick and angles himself toward him, so that they can look at each other easily.

"I was gonna say 'dumb' that time, but yeah." There's a small, crooked smile there, and it evens out just a fraction when Jonny reaches out and rests his hand on Patrick's knee. Jonny smiles back, forcing himself to keep his eyes off the pillow beside Patrick. He doesn't have x-ray vision. He's just going to have to wait until Patrick gives up the info.

"So, tell me anyway. You tell me your dumb thought, and I'll tell you one of mine after." He's got a couple of things he can pick from, depending on what sort of thing Patrick shares, to match for tone or level of intensity. He doesn't want to bare his soul if Patrick admits to nothing more than a craving for Tim Horton's doughnuts, but neither does he want to mention his dream the other night (wherein he was a cow on a farm, and the only real concrete thought he had upon the moment of waking was _if I were a cow, at least I could eat wheat_ ), if Patrick does something like confess that he's been hiding an injury or has seriously been considering quitting hockey. And then, along with that shitty thought, another hits him. "Or is this something you think will make me mad?"

Patrick shakes his head quickly at that. "No. It's not like—not like I'm sitting here, pining over and wanting to get back together with an ex or worrying about our relationship or anything like that—" and wow, that almost feels worse than the other shit that's just gone through Jonny's head, and he doesn't know quite how to feel about Patrick mentioning that possibility, even if he's listing it as something he's _not_ doing, "—it's just. I mean, when I say it's dumb or stupid, or—or _weird_ , I mean it's ridiculous, and I just...don't want you to think that _I'm_ an idiot."

"You mean more than usual?" Jonny teases, because that's something they joke about a lot on both sides. But Patrick's eye-roll isn't quite as convincing as it usually is. "Seriously, Pat. Just tell me. Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as we're building it up to be, at this point. Besides, I think I've proven that I can roll with 'weird' and even ridiculous. I can take shit in stride."

Patrick gives a little snort, like he thinks that's debatable, but whatever, Jonny's right about that. He handled a spontaneous goddamn _animal transformation_ without a nervous breakdown. "All right, fine. But just...don't hold this over my head forever, okay?" When Jonny nods, Patrick takes a deep breath and shoves his hand under the pillow. "I found this." He removes his hand, clutched around something, and all Jonny sees for a second is a little bit of red and a flash of gold. He has a moment of trying to figure out who might have left jewelry at his place that'd gone unreported as missing, wondering if Patrick thinks he's hiding someone in his romantic history, and then his brain identifies what's really in Patrick's hand.

"The cat collar?" Jonny asks, to be sure. He goes to reach for it, sort of a lazy movement, but Patrick pulls it away from his grasp, uncrumpling the polyester band and sliding his fingers through the circle of it, arranging it so that the tag rests in the palm of his hand. "Where'd you find that?"

"Between your headboard and the wall."

Jonny has a vague recollection of moving the collar from the living room to his nightstand the morning Panarin had shown up to retrieve his lost credit card, and another few vague memories of moving it around within the top drawer of his nightstand while looking for other things over the last few months. But he has no idea at what point it would have made its way out of the drawer entirely.

...Unless it was that night a couple of weeks back when he was near-frantically pawing through his drawer for lube and condoms while Patrick whined at him from the bed to hurry the fuck up, because he wanted Jonny's dick, "like, _yesterday_ ".

Yeah, that seems likely.

"Okay," Jonny says slowly, trying to follow Patrick's possible train of thought. He comes up with nothing. "So, uh. What's the thing that's stupid about this?"

"It's not the _collar_ that's stupid, it's _me_ ," Patrick says, posture going a little defensive again. Jonny's clearly not winning this one. And he feels more than a little dumb that he's just not getting it...except he's fairly certain Patrick isn't actually _giving him anything concrete to work with._

"Okay, look, I really do want to understand what's going on here, but you're seriously not giving me anything, and we've already established that I'm a shitty psychic. Help a guy out, Kaner."

Patrick gives him a cranky look that Jonny thinks is mostly self-directed (unless it's just annoyance that Jonny still hasn't learned to read minds) before he gives a giant sigh and sags a bit. "I was mad you took it away."

"You can keep it if you want it," Jonny says, but that's apparently not the right answer, because Patrick groans and tips his head back. "...Or not?"

"No, I'm just crappy at explaining, because it's one of those things I've basically sworn I'd never tell anyone, and it would be fine that way, only apparently it's _not_ , because I can't stop thinking about it, and I'm worried you'll—"

"Patrick," Jonny says, cutting him off. If his tone has more than a little of that captain-like authority to it, it's because he needs Patrick to fucking focus, and also to actually hear him right now. He doesn't want to play this game all day, with both of them just getting more frustrated, because nothing's actually getting communicated. And he especially doesn't want both of them to be pissed off at each other about what turns out to be nothing, because they can't manage to do anything other than talk around whatever issue is obviously weighing on Patrick. "You don't have to worry about what I'll do or what I'll think. You're not going to tell me anything right now that makes me regret us being together, or makes me think you're a freak or an actual idiot or whatever the fuck."

...That may have actually been the right answer, Jonny realizes with surprise, because Patrick takes in a deep, shuddery breath and holds it, letting it go in a relieved-sounding gust when Jonny puts a hand on the back of his neck and gives it a squeeze. 

"Seriously, do you need to, like, I dunno, write it down or something and leave the room while I read it?

"Maybe," Patrick mutters, and Jonny's just about to give up and grab a pad of paper and a pen from somewhere, just so they can address this damned thing, when Patrick flops backwards onto the mattress and sighs. "The reason I was mad was because you took the collar away. And the reason that was a big deal is that I _liked_ that it marked me as yours," he tells Jonny's ceiling a little aggressively. "It was one thing for you to let me hang out and try to keep me physically safe until I went back to normal, but it was another, much bigger thing for you to just flat-out _claim_ me. And not just claim me, but show everyone that I was yours."

Jonny blinks. They haven't been incredibly forthcoming with other people regarding their relationship, but there are a few people who've figured it out in the couple of months since Patrick's finished his little stint as a feline—which is another thing that very few people are privy to. But they haven't denied their relationship status to the few friends who've asked or said something about it, either. Jonny's kind of assumed that all is well and good, because just up and announcing it to the world would...well, it wouldn't go without some attention. The kind that has their faces splashed up on just about every damned sports magazine and webpage in existence and comes with a lot of reporters and social media sites hounding them with questions. "You want everyone to see that you're mine?" 

"No! Yes. Fuck, it's complicated, okay, and maybe my brain's just fucked up."

"So, what, do you want to come out publicly or something?"

Patrick huffs a breath of exasperation. "That's not what I meant."

Jonny's trying really hard to figure out how the world would know he and Patrick are together—specifically, that Patrick is _his_ \--in a way that doesn't involve coming out. He's just on the verge of wondering if this is heading to a place that involves wedding bands and maybe name changes—there's no fucking way Patrick would ever take Toews as a last name, Jonny's pretty positive of that, and he doesn't want to give his own up for a host of reasons, no matter how much easier "Kane" is for people to spell and pronounce—but that doesn't seem to be where Patrick was heading with that. Which...is kind of a relief. Not that Jonny hasn't caught himself thinking of that being an option for their future, but still, it's just...a little fast, perhaps. 

"O...kay. Then what did you mean?" And then something suddenly clicks as a possibility in his brain, something that explains Patrick's reluctance to spit out what he's getting at. "Wait." He knows he's probably making what Patrick and the other guys tell him is his 'constipated face', but he wants to phrase this in a way that doesn't result in Patrick either being legitimately insulted or something like that, and that means he's thinking hard. "Do you mean—I mean, if I were to, would you—fuck, okay, I guess what I'm asking is, do you want to wear a collar? If I got you another one? Like, a human-sized one, though?"

Instead of telling Jonny to go fuck himself—or even laughing—Patrick just flushes bright pink. Jonny wonders how much of Patrick's reluctance to say anything is because of the taboo around things like collars and Doms and subs or whatever else is involved, and how much is something that's less about society's view of those things and more about Patrick's own self-image and the way he presents himself to both people he knows and the public at large. Jonny's never thought of Patrick as being particularly submissive, and maybe that's because a lot of the time, at least between the two of them, Patrick's more antagonistic than anything. Fuck, the number of times they've screamed at each other on the bench or between periods or after games is too high to even begin to count. That doesn't at all seem to line up with any sort of meek, submissive behavior. Maybe he's wrong about it, after all.

"So...how far off base was I, with that question?" Jonny asks after another moment of silence, trying to keep his voice light and joking. "Outside the stadium entirely?"

"Not actually that far," Patrick says quietly and, oh, okay. Hm.

"But you don't want me to actually buy you a real collar, huh?"

Patrick shrugs one shoulder. "I said it's dumb. I maybe like the _concept_ of it, you know? But I don't exactly want to wear this thick piece of leather with a buckle around my neck out in public. It's...I don't know. Maybe it's just sort of wanting you to know that I _like_ being yours in a way I've never been anyone else's, and it being important that you really would claim me because you wanted to, and thinking you not only want me, but you're always looking out for me." He's fiddling with the gold tag on the collar still around his hand, but Jonny doesn't even think Patrick's aware he's doing it.

"No, I think I get it," Jonny says slowly. Maybe not _all_ of it, but he thinks he's got the gist. There's a part of him that, despite the fucking headaches it would cause both of them, really does want to announce to the world that they're together—or that, more accurately, Patrick is _his._ Maybe it's just some random eldest child trait, or maybe it's just Jonny's specific psyche, but he's got a bit of a territorial, possessive streak. He tries not to let it interfere with too much, but sometimes, he wishes he could give it a little more rein. And he's not going to lie and say he's been oblivious to the way Patrick's often most enthusiastic in bed when Jonny takes charge. There's something about how Patrick responds and obeys so readily when they're together and at their most intimate that Jonny fucking loves. Maybe he hasn't been imagining how much Patrick sometimes seems to prefer Jonny taking a firm hand with him when they're in the bedroom, even if he bridles against it when they're out in public. "And I am, you know."

"You're what?"

"Always kind of looking out for you." Sometimes that takes the form of trying to caution Patrick against doing things that Jonny has a feeling are just going to blow up in his face or get him in some sort of trouble, and sometimes it's as simple as tossing him a bottle of water, unprompted, when he shows up to play video games or watch a movie an hour or two after practice. But the general urge to—to take _some_ sort of responsibility, to be more proactive than reactive—is virtually always there, somewhere in his mind, even if it's not always at the forefront. Jonny's always chalked it up to them being friends, but maybe it's more than that.

"Yeah, I think I've kind of realized that," Patrick says, rolling onto his side and giving Jonny a half-smile. "Doesn't mean I might not still want to argue when I think you're overstepping, but I think you've pretty effectively proven you've got my best interests at heart. In your own way."

Jonny flops onto the mattress next to him, propped up on his elbows. Fuck it, he'll just reheat their dinner in a little while. This shit's more important. "I try, anyway. I might fail at how I handle it sometimes, but I really am trying to look out or help or whatever." He nudges Patrick's shoulder, jostling the arm still holding onto the collar. "That's why I got that for you, you know. I mean, I realized pretty soon after I got that thing around your neck that maybe it was a little misguided, in all practicality, because having you strangle to death on it the moment you changed back would definitely have been detrimental instead of helpful, but I just wanted to know you'd be safe. In case you ran away."

Patrick gives him a weird look. "There's no way in fuck I'd have run away."

"Not even after I sprayed you with the water bottle?"

Patrick snorts, but leans into Jonny, nudging him back. "No, not even after that. Retaliation was on the table, yeah, but seriously, there was nowhere else I wanted to go. I was _with you._ That's what I wanted, dumbass. That's where I wanted to be. And once you started doing all that affectionate, nice bullshit, like petting and snuggling and stuff, even though you _knew_ it was me and knew I'd probably remember at least some of what was going on, there was no way in hell I was going to legitimately, intentionally leave."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, I wasn't just waiting around for you to suddenly say something about being head-over-heels in love with me, because I didn't think that was likely, either as a human or as a cat. I wasn't going to be stuck as a cat forever unless you decided or realized or whatever the fuck that you loved me, like it was some magical curse that should have come with talking furniture. At some point, I'd have changed back on my own, even without you around. I think."

"...You think?"

Patrick sort of shrugs. "That's what the guy I'd seen when I was younger implied pretty heavily."

"But you don't know for sure?"

"Not, like, one-hundred-percent absolutely, no. Hell, I'd spent somewhere around ten years thinking I'd outgrown the ability or whatever you want to call it. Thought it was just some glitch in my genetics that figured itself out once I hit adulthood."

"And when did you figure out you hadn't?" Jonny's tried not to push too much about everything transformation-related, because it seems personal as hell, and he's sort of hoped Patrick would just bring it up one day right after it had happened and lay it all out for him, or at assure him it would absolutely never happen again, and they'd never need to worry about another incident. But he hasn't done that, and Jonny figures this is probably the best moment to get answers to some of the questions he's had floating around in the back of his head for the last few months. 

"I mean, I had briefly wondered back when I was twenty-one, after that whole thing with my cousin and the cab driver and everything that followed? But I thought I was just psyching myself out about it, because it never reached that 'critical mass' sort of threshold. It was just sort of a little nagging feeling, mostly in the background—sort of like when you think you _might_ be starting to catch a cold, but it turns out to just be allergies, that sort of shit, you know? But after that, I hadn't really had a reason to worry about it until...maybe eight months ago? It was somewhere around the beginning of the off-season, anyway. I had a bunch of free time on my hands, and I spent way too much of it in my own head, and a couple of conversations with my mom just kind of highlighted some things. Some shit started getting clearer, and I knew I'd been ignoring stuff for a really goddamned long time, but I guess I'd figured I was mostly over it. Over _you,_ specifically. Turns out I was really fucking wrong about that."

Jonny shifts his weight against Patrick again. "Not that I'd have wanted the whole transformation thing to happen to you or anything, if I'd known that was a...a _thing,_ but I'm glad you were wrong about it? Meaning, it would have really sucked for me to get my own shit together about how I feel about you just after you'd decided you didn't feel anything anymore."

"Jonny, the chances of me 'not feeling anything anymore' for you were always slim, at best. I meant more like that low level of pining that you can ignore ninety-nine percent of the time, or even forget about most times, until the other person mentions they're getting married or some damn thing and you have to drink yourself stupid to avoid doing anything rash and embarrassing, like making a move the night before their wedding or standing up and objecting during the ceremony. No matter how anything ever played out between us, I was basically always going to feel something for you. I'm just glad it worked out this way."

"Me too." They're both on their stomachs on the bed, propped up on their elbows, so Jonny can't just kiss Patrick like he wants. He settles instead for mouthing a kiss at Patrick's shoulder and giving it a little nip immediately after, grinning when Patrick laughs. They're both quiet for a moment until Jonny can't quite help pressing a little more for information. "Are those really the only times you've been close, with the transformation thing, since you left Buffalo?"

Patrick does that sort-of-shrug thing. "Yeah. I mean, fuck, there were a handful of times I _wished_ I could just turn into a cat—aside from the logistical headaches it would produce—over the years, any probably not for the reason you might think. But that's it for actually worrying it might happen."

"Why would you want to? I mean, if it happens because of some insanely high level of stress, why would you want to put yourself through that?"

"It's not quite like that," Patrick says, shaking his head. "I mean, okay, it _is_. It absolutely is a result of the kind of stress that makes people have meltdowns or breakdowns or panic attacks or whatever. But it's also like a—like a re-set in some ways, and things are way the fuck easier."

"Easier?" Jonny has a hard time seeing how being suddenly unable to do a whole lot of shit for yourself, or even really communicate, is easy. It seems like it'd make things difficult as hell, actually. "How the shit does that work?"

Patrick sighs. "It's hard to explain, kinda? I mean, yeah, the actual functioning in the capacity I'm used to, like taking care of general business and responsibilities, that's way the fuck more complicated, if not downright impossible. But just... _existing_ is easier." He makes a face. "I've never really had to describe it or lay it out for someone who didn't already know what I was talking about. One of the benefits of finding Doctor Levi when I was so young, I guess. He already knew what was going on, and he filled my parents in." He takes a deep breath and worries his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment. "Okay. So. When I change, it's still my mind, I'm still _me,_ but it's sort of...experiencing things through some sort of filter. Like all that little stuff, every single tiny thing you notice, all those moments when something in the back of your head speaks up to remind you of all the things that are wrong, or ways you've fucked up, or all the what-ifs, all those tangents your brain takes, that stuff just...doesn't really register so much. It's still your own mind and conscious, but just—just _distilled._ There's a lot more focus on the present, just being in the moment. It makes everything easier to handle. Does that make sense?"

Jonny, who's done a fair amount of meditation throughout his adult life, nods. He gets it. It's not always an easy headspace for him to get into, but he's done it. And there have definitely been times he's wished he could just go sit somewhere off to himself for a while and get his mind to that place so he can see what really matters or what sort of options are in front of him, but the basic rules of life and social obligations and other circumstances just render that impossible. "Yeah."

Patrick gives him a thoroughly relieved look and lets out his breath in a gust that clues Jonny in to how much he'd worried he wouldn't get his point across. "Thank fuck. Because let me tell you, man, I am really goddamned aware of how little of this whole thing actually _does_ make any sort of sense even to anyone who's gone through it, let alone anyone outside of it." He pauses, then gives a huff just barely tinged with resignation. "Okay, whatever you're going to say, just have out with it. I can see the look on your face. Hit me with whatever you've got."

Jonny raises his eyebrows. "What look on my face?"

"That's the look you usually make when you're about to say something you think someone won't like, but you think it needs to be said anyway."

Well, that's...actually pretty accurate, so Jonny doesn't even bother to play dumb this time. "Okay, so, uh, I'm gonna float something as an idea or an option, and I'm not trying to pressure you or anything, and you can totally tell me it's a stupid suggestion or that it's impossible, or whatever the hell else, but I think it's important I get it out in the open, so you can be aware of it. Okay?"

To say Patrick's face is skeptical would be putting it mildly. "Fucking...go for it, man."

"What if, the next time you feel that pull or whatever sort of feeling that leads up to the transformation thing, you just...let it happen? Instead of fighting it?"

Patrick stares at him, eyebrows up. "What?"

"Like, before you hit that point of no return or whatever. Or maybe we can even see if you can kind of force it to happen before it gets that bad? That way, you'd get your re-set, but without having to hit that point of super high stress. We could try to work it out ahead of time, that way we can make plans or excuses for why you might be unavailable, if it came to that. And that way, I could make sure we're stocked up on any, uh, supplies you might need, and I could be there, to make sure it's done in a safe way. And even if you don't want to mess around with it for whatever reason, maybe we should have some sort of code word or phrase established, in case you can tell you're going to shift, or think you might, and I'm not around. I mean, it'd be nice to have at least a little warning, even if it's only like hours or even a minute or whatever. And if I'm not around, I'd like to make sure _someone_ gets to you to make sure you're not in any immediate physical danger. I dunno, some short text or one or two word voicemail or some damn thing."

Patrick's still staring at him, and Jonny's trying to figure out how best to apologize for overstepping boundaries, when Patrick finally opens his mouth. "You've, uh...been thinking about this shit a lot, haven't you?" His voice is funny, and Jonny can't quite read the tone. 

"Maybe off and on, a little," Jonny allows, feeling a little embarrassed. Is it unexpected that he'd dwell on aspects of what the fuck happened to Patrick? That shit was weird as hell and—to Jonny, anyway—completely out of the blue, and also something he'd have sworn up and down, probably on his life, could never happen to a human. They half-joke about the hockey gods being real now and then, but the whole scenario seems a lot more like magic than anything Jonny's ever felt comfortable legitimately considering before. "It's just that I—"

"You look after me," Patrick says, cutting him off, and, oh shit, are those fucking tears in his eyes? Jesus, he's such a sap.

"I told you," Jonny says, fondly exasperated. "I try."

Patrick moves so quickly that Jonny doesn't even know to expect the way Patrick grabs him and rolls him over, pinning Jonny to the mattress while Patrick straddles his hips. "Fuck," Jonny murmurs, both surprised as shit and also kind of impressed. And maybe a little turned on. 

"You keep doing all these things that are hard to interpret as anything other than you caring about me," Patrick says, still keeping Jonny pinned in place. "What's with that?"

Jonny rolls his eyes. "It's because that's the reason, dumbass. I like knowing you're okay. I like being able to help with shit. I like when you're happy, fucker."

Patrick snorts a small laugh, but he doesn't let Jonny up. "I'm going to keep this after all," he tells Jonny, holding the collar up so it dangles above Jonny's chest. "It's a nice reminder you wanted me safe and taken care of."

"Yeah, well, sorry it's so plain, since you're keeping it," Jonny says. "If I'd known it was still going to last, I'd have looked harder for an actual Hawks collar or something. Or actually personalized the tag."

Patrick squints at him, then at the medallion. "You put my name on it, along with the whole 'I belong to Jonathan' line. What else were you gonna do, put a note about who I really was?"

"No, I would have put the damned 'S' on the front after all, under the name."

"What, for 'Showtime'?" Patrick asks, eyebrows raised.

Jonny can feel himself blush. "No. Uh. The Superman 'S', I mean. Because of the All-Star thing a couple years back. I thought it was the sort of thing you might get, if you were picking out your own." He realizes as he says it how incredibly dumb it sounds.

Patrick doesn't seem to think it sounds nearly as dumb as Jonny thinks it is. He just looks back at him, a grin slowly stretching across his face. Jonny loves when he looks like that, pleased and happy about something, especially when it's because of something Jonny's personally said or done. He can feel himself blush a little hotter. "You're unreal sometimes," Patrick breathes, and then he's leaning down, putting more of his weight on Jonny's body, and kissing him long and deep and a little dirty, the collar still in his hand and pressed between his palm and Jonny's chest.

"Fuck it, dinner can be microwaved," Jonny says when Patrick breaks it off to readjust his balance, and when Jonny uses the movement to flip them both over so he can straddle Patrick's legs instead, Patrick just murmurs "fuck, I love it when you do that," laughing a little when Jonny grins down at him. He's still smiling when Jonny slips his hand through the collar wrapped around Patrick's hand and twines their fingers together, and Jonny hopes Patrick knows how hard he'd fight to keep this.

This is something he'll always want to keep safe.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you wondering where the literal fluffiness went, I swear to you, there will be more kitten shenanigans in the next one. Don't hate me.


End file.
